Wind Cave I: Inside Grandmother Earth’s Lungs

We enter from a door blasted[break]in her side, down metal stairs[break]past folds of fleshy flowstone,[break]stepping on lungs of a great giant–[break]Grandmother Earth–in Wind Cave,[break]at the Center of All That Is.

The first explorers had to crawl[break]down Her windpipe to get inside,[break]past Her whistle, past Her sigh,[break]wind so strong it blew their hats off,[break]blew their lamps out.

Now the throat’s blocked to keep[break]young children from falling[break]through its eighteen-inch membrane;[break]chords cut, the cave is songless,[break]speechless.

Like a virus[break]we swarm the lungs,[break]creep past the silence,[break]twist deeper through holes and folds,[break]past brown mud-breathing skin,[break]we penetrate[break]tiny air pockets,[break]smoke-blackened,[break]pick-axed,[break]narrowing[break]down,[break]down[break]till[break]no[break]air[break]sacs[break]left;[break]no-[break]thing.

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Anuk-Ite’: Double-Face Woman: Poems

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About the Symbol

Next to the south window of the little cabin a plyboard had been nailed over the logs and painted yellow. In the center a large red circle was flanked by a red arrow on each side, facing outwards.

Selo Black Crow said, "I’ll tell you a good story. Two arrows, two warriors, Crow Dog and Black Crow, and one hochoka, one sacred circle. A hundred years ago, fighting at the Little Big Horn, Black Crow, my great-grandpa, and Crow Dog, Leonard’s great-grandpa, made a sacred bond of brotherhood. Still strong after a hundred years. Now it’s me and Leonard who‘re the warriors fighting the government for treaty rights. When we sundanced together, I painted it here so everyone could see we help each other. We keep our AIM camps a-going, Camp Lakota and Crow Dog’s Paradise. Sanctuaries to revive the spiritual heart of our culture."